Hurricanes
by Niknakz93
Summary: Sometimes, winning The Hunger Games isn't an end to the horror, it's a new beginning. A mentor really shouldn't fall in love with their tribute, it's just asking for trouble. Finnick/Annie


_**Hurricanes.**_

_**Summary: **__The story of a broken man and a mad girl. And how they help each other find themselves again. We all know how it ends, but... where did it all begin? Finnick/Annie_

_Well, I have always wanted to have a go at an Annie/Finnick story, because I love them together so much. So… viola! I've added some OCs, my own little twists to their story. But here you go. It's my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fanfiction, so be nice please? Starts with Annies game, then the years where they fall for each other. Not rushed, but built up over time. Age wise, Finnick is almost 20 in this, Annie 17. She still has her mind at the moment, because the games haven't taken place just yet e.g. Gone insane. Later on in the fic, pretty sure you'll get some light smut (This_ is _Finnick after all) and tons of fluff . Reviews and feedback would be exceedingly lovely! Thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope you like it._

_xxx_

_::Note:: This was originally posted on my THG account, but errors last night have made me have to post it on here now. And my The Vampire Diaries fics are on hiatus until the new season has started up._

* * *

At first, I think the ocean, in all its majestic, and at times, volatile, glory is claiming me. Dragging me down to its crushing depths to join the endless boats and souls that had been lost over the years. An ocean-bed graveyard.

But the waters are calm, the lightest of gusts blowing and above, a periwinkle blue shot with fluffy white clouds that roll lazily across the ocean-like sky. I come to the surface, coughing out the salty water that invades my lungs, eyes stinging. Just because you'd lived here all your life, it didn't make you immune to the waters. For me, regarding the ocean, it was like… a code.

As long as I treated it with respect, it, in turn, would do the same for me.

It turned out I'd fallen asleep, tumbling over the edge of the small boat into the briny deep. My eyes scanned the softly waving surface of the blue, spotting the boat about ten meters away. With a test of the current, and a few neat breaststrokes later, I was hoisting myself back in and sitting down on the wooden slat that served as a seat with a quiet groan, reaching down to pull the sopping shirt from sticking to my chest, but it sticks right back again, so I give up.

I'd returned from the Capitol that morning, dumped my belongings in the spacious house that belonged to me, a prize for winning the games that I'd rather forget than remember. But it was impossible. Without telling a soul, I went down to the harbor as I usually did after a night in the Capitol. Sometimes I was fine, but others I came back a mess, on the edge, a storm raging in my mind as I'd lie on the bottom of the boat, staring unblinkingly up at the stars, wondering if there would ever be a way to escape all this. But no tears. Never any tears.

For now, I was untying the little boat in the corner that was once a deep, dark blue in color. But no more. It was shabby, but mine. I loved and cherished it. So many years ago, my father had bought the pieces we had needed to make it, bit by bit. It took months, but I remembered that morning where I was woken up to the last piece set next to the door, just inside my bedroom. Like the most priceless gift ever. I'd leapt out of bed and dragged the piece outside where my father had already started on the frame. My face had been stretched into the biggest grin possible, pulling the piece over to him, eager to see the finished result.

When it was finished and painted, we took it out at dawn, an hour before the Peacekeepers started patrolling the waters for anyone trying to escape. Magic Hour, I liked to call it. Still dark, but light at the same time. Because I was a victor, I had the freedom of taking my boat out whatever the time, as long as I didn't try to escape or stray too far. As if I could do that anyway… Father taught me how to row, to steer and navigate. Regarding the escapees, they wouldn't get far, for there was a fence. Rising high out of the water, topped with electric sensors that sent out wicked bolts. Come too close to it, and you'd get electrocuted. Even if you survived, you'd be paralyzed at least.

This had been the fate for too many people. Ones that strayed by accident, ones that had tried to escape… or simply children that were learning how to row and smashed into it, not realizing just how 'close' that the Peacekeepers called 'close.'

The ocean became their last resting place.

So before I returned to my train of thoughts, I cast a glance around.

The fence was nowhere in sight. Land was, thankfully.

My previous night in the Capitol had been a dark one, darker than usual. One that I'd love to blank out, but they all just blurred into one these days. Drink had flowed, secrets spilled, bedroom doors had been locked. No wonder I'd passed out on the little boat, for my brain was still sluggish from the hangover. The fall had sobered me up, or I would have probably downed.

Taken by my beloved ocean.

My eyes, famous in the Capitol, pathetic, looked up to the sky now, looking for the sun to tell the time. Just gone noon.

I'd been out all night. No wonder I was so cold.

* * *

By the time I'd docked and tied the boat back up, the sun was beating down onto my back, somewhat drying my shirt a little. But not enough to stop the staring the shirt clinging to my form, eyes next to lapping up the sight of the famous Finnick Odair drenched head to foot. Maybe I shouldn't have run a hand through my hair in an attempt to move the hair from my eyes. It'd only make them swoon more.

Couldn't I have just five minuets of break before the hormone stricken girls pounced? It seemed not.

Then again, it was so much better to be here, home, than in the Capitol. There they truly did follow me around. Giggling as they went. You could never truly get used to it… but I had to try at least. To keep that face of strength, sexiness and just… well, everything that the Games should mean.

The face I kept up was cocky, flirty and suave at times.

But under that, the fourteen year old boy who got reaped, thrown into the games and came out a victor was still there. Almost twenty now, a victor for nigh six years. But still as miserable as the day his name had been called. Don't think that, if you win, you'll be happy for the rest of your life.

I still got the nightmares. The sounds of the sickening thuds as my trident buried itself deep into a chest. Piercing hearts, lungs. Anything and everything.

But then they were dead. Or in my dreams, they didn't die, but came after me, dragging me down into the depths of the ocean. I couldn't die, and the pressure kept building and building. Silently screaming, begging to die.

Then I woke up. Shaking and drenched in sweat, patting the bed around me to make sure I was on dry land. Sometimes I was in my own bed, sometimes I was in my client for the nights. They were the worse. I couldn't mess those ones up, or suffer the punishment.

After I'd made my way through the town, I slipped into the Victors Village and through my front door, locking it after me, forehead resting against the closed wood of the door, sighing out a long breath. The following day was the Reaping. The 70th. Ah, the joy of being a mentor…

They never won under my guidance, so I'd more or less given up. I didn't want to, but, it had just come to a point where I didn't care about anything. My life was a mess, so why should I try anymore?

I'd never turn to drink. I knew Haymitch. Like hell I'd want to end up a mess, well, even more of a mess than I am now.

But my hangover, it throbbed.

There was a knock on the door, making me flinch back from it. A low growl of annoyance rumbled in my throat, yanking the door open and yelling. "What?!"

The girl that was standing there flinched, her timid of sorts eyes widening in surprise and shock. She stuttered as she tried to say something, but me, in my bad mood, snapped. "Get it out already."

"I- would you like to buy one?"

I looked down at what she was holding out, eyes more or less cold. I wanted my bed and a hot drink before tomorrow. Then it would be duties next to every night.

Both mentoring and Snows personal ones.

The girl was holding out a bracelet. A woven light brown thin rope one with small white shells embedded into it. I arched a brow and asked, no, scoffed out. "Do you truly believe I'd want one?"

Her eyes, a deep dark forest green more or less filled with tears, but she held them back as she went, voice wavering just a little. "Being a victor doesn't excuse you from being rude."

She turned on her tail and walked off, leaving me to cock my brow higher and snort after her, closing the door. She looked so young. Silly little thing.

I bet she'd be at the reaping tomorrow. Urgh, she better not get picked. The last thing I'd want is someone who thinks me the rudest person on earth.

She'd been right though, the girl. Being a victor didn't excuse me from being rude. I should have apologized and bought her seashell bracelet as an apology. Goodness only knew how poor she was from that little green dress I had spied her wearing too.

Now I felt bad. I really had changed from that fun loving boy I had been before I was Reaped. Now? I was half considering locking myself in my room and never coming out. Almost twenty… and a total mess.

Like really, what did I have to live for?

My mind visited the painful chapter now, closing my eyes as I remembered the day I'd been invited, no, summoned to the Capitol for an audience with President Snow himself. I'd been worried, a little scared. Did this happen to all the victors? Did he call them from their homes for a 'Friendly chat,' as the Peacekeeper who had told me put it?

No. Not all of them.

What Snow had told me, it shocked me. That he wanted my services. I was just over sixteen when it happened, and when he told me just what he wanted me to do… I flipped. I'd refused. Next to ran down the steps of the Presidents home and returned to District 4.

I should have realized there and then what would happen if I refused.

It happened when I wasn't that far from the harbor where the boat I'd bought my parents with my winners money was. It was obviously staged to unhinge me, for the moment I caught sight of them and grinned, raising a hand to wave… the dock blew up with so much force it blew me backwards.

And with that, my parents were gone. Dead. Ashes in the water, the ocean their resting place. I'd never cried as much as that night when next to no one could console the grieving sixteen year old victor who was broken to a point he had to toughen up to stop himself looking weak.

That was the last time I ever cried.

I'd returned to the Capitol the next day, eyes burning as if I was crying, but there was no more tears left to shed. My voice was still defiant as I told him. "I'll do it."

If I had a trident at that very moment, I would have rammed it into his face when that sly little smirk appeared there. I would have been hung no doubt for it, or worse, knowing the Capitol. But I wouldn't have cared. It would be revenge.

Then the strings of 'lovers' started. I became what the public wanted; an idol. A sex god. And the Finnick Odair that had existed before the Games was truly dead and gone.

The cocky mask was set in place, and I doubted it would ever shift.

So all I had left now was my younger sister, Carina. She had just turned seventeen. This would be one of her last Reapings, and I knew it… tomorrow, it would be her just for how much of a pain I'd been to Snow. They would choose her. Just because I was her big brother.

I'd stuck a deal with Snow to keep her safe, doing extra work for him. He'd swore when I was done, using the highest of my abilities, she would be immune.

I didn't trust him. At all.

Carina… if she got reaped… I would have to mentor her. And that would kill me. No. dying would be a reprieve. I'd be decimated.

There was a rattle on the door now as the lock opened, being pushed open, the person there letting out a little squeak of shock as my figure, still soaking stood there, as still as a statue. Carina Odair.

Her eyes, the exact shade of sea green as my own, we returning to their normal state. She rolled them and closed the door, sighing gently at me as she raised her hands and took my face into them, groaning out. "Rough night?"

I avoided her eyes, looking down, and she took it as Yes. She let me go and walked past me, into the kitchen, calling back to me. "Get in that shower and get changed. Now."

Orders. Only she could get away with that. She was like my parent, sister and friend all in one. I did as she said and wandered upstairs, grabbing a shower and wandering back downstairs in my dressing gown to find hot fish soup and bread waiting for me. I smiled weakly at her in thanks and sat down before the bowl as she sat opposite me, brushing her copper hair from her eyes with a light sigh of. "You can't keep doing this forever."

"I won't."

"Finnick."

At last, I met her eyes. And I was expecting them to be harsh, accusing. But they were rather soft. Motherly, like our mothers. I couldn't bare to tell her what I really did in the Capitol. The truth would kill her. Instead, I told her that it was photoshoots, interviews, overnight parties, extra work. I'd be vague about the details. She never asked any extra questions, so I never told her anything else.

Mags, who was pretty much my mother now, an old victor who lived next door, knew. But she never asked or mentioned anything about it.

I owed her.

Carina dipped her bread into her own soup now, telling me after a bite. "You better be ready for tomorrow. No lacking or drinking."

"I'm not a drunk, Car."

"You'll end up like Haymitch if you carry on like this. Stop it. Want to end up a washed up guy who never leaves the house? You're pathetic."

A low growl escaped my lips now, narrowing my eyes at her. "I'm not going to end up like him. Stop nagging. For fucks sake."

She scoffed. "I'll keep nagging if it actually gets through that thick skull of yours."

Carina was right, of course. I was a dick. Well and truly. No wonder she was disgusted by me and my actions.

I shrugged and finished my soup in silence, standing up and dumping the empty bowl into the sink, turning back to her, muttering out. "I'll be fine. You know me."

"Oh whatever, Finn." Carina snapped, pushing her chair back and stalking out the room. The front door slammed shut behind her, and I instantly felt bad.

I had it coming, I knew it. With a quiet creak, I leaned back on the chair and fixed my eyes on the ceiling. Ah fuck.

I'd catch her before the reaping in the morning. She wouldn't want to talk to me today.

That day, I spent it in bed. My clothes on the floor and face buried in the pillow, not caring if anyone walked in. This was my house, screw them. Let them walk in on me buck naked, I didn't care. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world.

Wow. I really was lost.

Morning soon came, and I pulled myself out of bed a tad early, walking into the bathroom and doing my hair, deliberately making it its usual styled self. Just how the public liked it. Shaving the stubble from my face with a wrinkled nose, taking great care not to cut myself. The last thing I needed on a day like this was a great bloody cut.

The district was buzzing, and I didn't even get chance to go see Mags or even Carina as I was shoved into the Justice Building, told to wait there before the ceremony started.

Now I was praying that Carina was immune. Just… please.

My palms were sweating, so I wiped them on the knees of my crisp, suave suit as I got to my feet, walking onto the stage to loud cheers and applause. And instantly, my other, Capitol persona snaps on, flashing the crowd a sly wink as I moved over to my seat where I leaned back, deliberately letting my legs fall open, arching my hips just a little and run a hand through my hair, seemingly without a care in the world.

This was the other me.

I found Carina in the group of seventeen year olds, and our eyes never left the others. No words needed, we just spoke with our eyes.

The giggly girl with the fluffy light blue hair wandered forwards on stage now. Azure Trinket her name was. She had been the one to pull my name from the reaping ball. This was her last time I think as doing this, for her sister was taking over. Effie I think her name had been.

All I could hope was that this Effie wasn't like Azure, who had the habit of staring at me. And not at my face either. Women.

Azure, I just realized, after the boring and endless Capitol video about how the Hunger Games had started. It was over. I hated that video, so much. It reminded me of the day I got reaped… something I didn't want to think about.

The fluffy, pale periwinkle blue candyflossed haired young woman was reaching into the girls reaping ball, and Carinas eyes widen a little. She was a brave, brave young woman. But even she was knew that the chances of her being picked was… major.

She was saying Goodbye with her eyes. I narrowed mine ever so slightly.

No one was saying goodbye. Not today.

Azure pulled the name out, beaming as she read out. "Annie Cresta!" but even I noticed Azures smile falter the slightest fraction, like… it wasn't the name she was supposed to read out, and my heart burst with relief that Carina had been spared. Even if by an accident.

This Annie. I didn't know her.

But then I saw the small girl walking up the parting from the seventeen year olds section, and my heart sank.

Oh. I did know her.

Seashell girl.

She walked up to the stage in a dark blue dress, her hands together, but I could see them shaking. Her eyes met mine for the briefest of seconds, and she recognized me for sure. Who wouldn't? And she could tell I remembered her, for my eyes just radiated regret for my actions.

It suddenly dawned on me that I was going to have to mentor her.

This would be just as bad as mentoring Carina.

The odds most certainly weren't in my favor.

_-Thank you for reading! It's not perfect, I mean... no one is, and I hope you drop a review!-_


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